Writing To Reach You

It's two thousand and I'm cooking dinner with my daughter Rachel. She stirs as I change the CD.

"So you know Travis?" I ask.

"No, never heard of them," she answers.

"Listen to this part," I say.

Because my inside is outside
My right side's on the left side
'Cos I'm writing to reach you
But I might never reach you
I only long to teach you about you
But that's not you

"Beautiful, huh?" I ask, joining Rachel at the stove.

"Sounds okay," she answers, looking over at me.

"That longing for a connection, to be able to write and reach someone, and being so mixed up . . . ," I begin.

"Really? 'Teach you about you?'" my wife interrupts. "Who teaches people about themselves? That's just, ugh, so wrong. Right?"

Rachel looked up at me. I bit my lip. "Nice melody, though," I said, thinking "But that's not you."